Story

(a hazy shade of Winterson)

In the beginning, her laughter lived and his smile was free. They
divided the earth into music and stars, and a river so long ran between
them. There by the water's edge she danced, watching the reflection of his
smile; there by the water's edge he danced, listening to the echo of her
laugh. She danced because she had not learned to lie, and he danced
because he wanted to tell the truth. And when he smiled, she thought of
stars; and when she laughed, he followed. And there was morning, and there
was sunrise -- the first day.

But the river dried up in the heat of the sun, and there was no water
to reflect the stars. She caught his smile in a raindrop, and he heard her
laugh through the tears; but the stars were far away, and the sky grew
lonely. And there was morning, and there was night -- the second day.

And so it was night again, as it had been every other time, and there
they were again, as they had been before. She cried because she didn't
know how to reach him, and he lied because he didn't know how to tell her
the truth. I love you dearly, he said, meaning I pity your
hopelessness. Don't say that, she said, meaning the sky is
falling down. I mean I like you, he said, meaning I don't know
how else to tell you to leave. And he smiled because he didn't know
how to cry, and she laughed because she didn't know how to die. And there
was morning, and there was evening -- the last day.

And then when it became night again, he danced because he knew the
music, and she danced because she knew the score. But the night grew
darker and the music grew colder, and the dancing grew wilder. Eyes to the
light, he smiled; blinded by the sight, she drowned in the moment --
waving, waving, waving. And when the time came for parting, he waved for a
moment, and she smiled -- drowning, drowning, drowning. And there was
evening, and there was mourning. The last day.

Between the last day and the end of the world, his smile came to her
in a dream. I must go away soon, it said, I need some time alone; there
are stars to be seen, and so little time. And with a whisper it went,
towing the dream behind it. And there was no more morning.

These days, she dances when everyone else is asleep; she watches her
flickering shadows in the lamplight, watches her rippling face in the
rain. She dances as if her soul depended on it, hanging on her every move.
The rain is her seven veils, and in the night many may come and go, and
come. And go. And there was night, and there was night -- the first
ending.

She does not know where he went, but sometimes she thinks she sees his
smile dancing through the dark sky. He does not know where she went, but
sometimes he thinks he hears her laugh floating on the river. And for a
while she will stare at the stars, and sigh; and for a while he will hold
quite still as if listening to something no longer there. And there was
silence -- the second ending.

She never knew his name, and from time to time she asks people if they
have seen his smile. It is like this, she says, holding up a shooting star
at the edge of a breathless sky. But they have not seen it, and she moves
on, dancing on the brink of the night. She leaves only the echo of
laughter.

He never knew her name, and from time to time he wonders if it would
have made any difference. He leaves, only the shadow of a smile.